


Robert's Exit - Conversations with Family

by softestlad



Series: Aaron's Family Values [2]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: (not explicit) - Freeform, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Conversations, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Angst, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Memories, Missing Scene, Reminiscing, Siblings, aaron has had e n o u g h, discussion of rape/sexual abuse, hard conversations, remembering, robron's bridge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-01-15 13:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21253847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestlad/pseuds/softestlad
Summary: Aaron having conversations with family members, canon compliant/wishlist items for epsaka; the author is too sad to write direct robron rn, and so writes robron adjacent





	1. Mandy

**Author's Note:**

> family support for Aaron is #nowhere rn so I'm going to build a black sheep support network instead. if you end up liking this maybe try my [he is my own](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523801) series as well. there's only a few bits in there rn, but they're of a similar flavour, but with cain, for crunch.

Aaron saw her ahead of him up the road, that distinctive walk of hers – the shifty bustle of it – a dead giveaway. Far be it for him to say any Dingle looked like a reputable citizen, but Mandy was Dingle embodied. She couldn’t go out for milk without looking like she was on the take, ready to scam the grocer, whoever was next in the queue, and the cow to boot. Granted, he wouldn’t be asking her over to the Mill for a movie marathon any time soon, but Aaron had to respect it. A bit.

“Oi!” he called up after her. “Mandy!”

She startled, dropping her bag from David’s, her handbag, and what looked like her phone. She whipped around and froze, for a second looking like she was considering making a bolt for…what? Aaron jogged up, putting a bit of effort into looking relaxed for her sake, and watched as she launched into the dramatics.

She slammed a hand onto her chest, feigning palpitations. Or maybe not feigning – Aaron had been filled in on this Terry bloke.

“If I weren’t so young and desirable I’d say you’d just put me at risk of ‘eart attack,” she said, then dropped the persona, voice gone deep and mirthless. “What d’you want?”

“Belle text,” Aaron said, glancing down and noticing all of Mandy’s things still on the ground. He crouched down to scoop them up. “She told me what happened at Dingle Court.”

“Right, so you’re here to deliver another round of bollocking. Fan-flipping-tastic, I – “

“Sorry.” Aaron tentatively offered Mandy back her things, and she took them with faltering hands. Her eyes were narrowed, expecting a trick. “For nicking off you. If I’d known…”

“Oh.”

“You just turned up, blagging off everyone, I thought you were taking the piss. If you’d only said the money was to get out of trouble, or about this Terry, I’d not have.”

“Why’re you saying all this?” she asked, the follow up of _what’s your angle? _noticeably left off.

“Because you had a chance to drop us in it, and you din’t take it.” Aaron shrugged. “A lot’s gone on since then and I’ve not been up to – I’ve not.” Aaron pressed his lips together, looked down again, watched speckling rain start to recolour the ground. “You helped us, even after we’d done you over. That’s Dingle code, right.”

Mandy still looked unsure, a face on her like she thought he might be wearing a wire, or had a slightly shorter copper standing behind his back.

“Could’ve used you yesterday,” she settled on. “Speech like that, could’ve been my Dingle court solicitor.”

“Don’t put much stock in solicitors these days.”

“No. Though the best in the family never did, eh?” They shared wry, understanding smiles, Mandy’s large and unrepentant, Aaron’s more reserved. Hollowed. He cleared his throat, shoved his hands in his pockets to keep the chill out of his fingers. It felt weirdly right this year, the cold coming on, everything dying – skeletal trees and forgiving grey skies.

“So,” Aaron said. “I don’t owe you nowt, but we both made a hash of this on either end, so. Behind us now?”

Mandy inspected her chipped nails as though considering it. Aaron rolled his eyes.

“Go on so,” she said at last. “I’ll be stickin’ around so might as well start over now, eh.”

“Don’t put me up or down,” Aaron said, nodding to her. “See you about.”

“You will at that, little cousin.”

“Is that what I am?”

“It’s my best guess, any road, and don’t tell me you ‘ave one better.”

Aaron conceded the point with a playful frown, then started trudging off up the road. He had made it a few steps before Mandy’s voice assaulted him from the back again.

“Aaron?” He turned around. “I’m sorry. About your Robert, I mean.”

Aaron swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, scanned her face for a jibe, a quick turnaround on their just-established peace. There was none. She held onto her David’s bag, wet from the ground, and her phone with more cracks in the screen than screen, and she looked at him with a sincerity he wagered rarely saw daylight.

Mandy was a scammer. A manipulator. Always hiding something, always out for what she could get. Mean streak a mile wide when the mood took her and cheap as the pleather trousers and gaudy print jumpers she favoured. But she had a big, fierce heart under there, it seemed. She was a Dingle, alright.

Aaron couldn’t bring himself to speak, just nodded again and turned around. He set up off the road, course correcting all the way. With no one walking next to him he found himself walking at a slight slant. This was his new normal. He had fourteen years to get used to it.


	2. Nate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home truths between cousins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comin at you hot. no more today though, i swear

Aaron sat down at the bar with a single-minded determination.

“Pint, Bob, when you’re ready,” he said, catching Bob’s nod as he dealt with a few other customers, then catching sight of someone else.

Nate was standing at the bar as well, pintless, but with more than enough brass neck to make up for it it seemed. Aaron scanned over him, trying to put his finger on when the first time he saw him was. Maybe on the night out, in passing? The night where everything changed. Maybe after that at Butler’s? They never properly chatted, that’s for sure, Aaron would’ve remembered that, but how many times had Nate and Aaron crossed paths in the last few months and Aaron had just…no idea. Of any of it.

Bob pulled up in front of Aaron, deftly sorting him out a pint. Aaron handed him the cash. “Mum know you’re serving him?”

“Eh, eh no. I’ve not, technically speaking, yet. I wasn’t sure – “

“Problem?” Nate asked, ears obviously burning.

“A few,” Aaron said, taking the first mouthful of his pint. He’d been putting the beer away lately, just something to take the edge off. He knew he’d have to stop with it soon, that having everyone seeing the cans in the morning was making them worry. And Aaron would be damned if he would start hiding them, in his mind that was crossing the line from alcohol use to alcohol abuse, and that was the last thing this family needed.

“Eh?”

“Nothing, just jog on, yeah,” Aaron sank another mouthful. “You shouldn’t even be in here.”

“It’s my local,” Nate scowled. Aaron looked back, neutral faced.

“It’s the most Dingle building in the village, and you decided you didn’t want to be a part of that before you even showed up.” Aaron lowered himself from his stool, walked over the few steps to sit closer to Nate. Bob stiffened behind the bar, face dropping.

“We don’t want any trouble boys.”

“No trouble here, Bob,” Aaron said. “Just wanted to clear some things up for my cousin here.” He turned to Nate, who made a face at the word _cousin_. “Did you think about that? Nevermind Cain, Moira, Amy. All those lives you came to Emmerdale to destroy. You’ve a family here. This pub – my mum owns it. Your aunt. She’s had a rough couple of years, recently reconnected with Faith, who’s been driven out of the village when my mum needs her most. Similar to Sarah, y’know, your niece, who loves her Granny Faith and is probably missing her right now.” Aaron noticed a few earwiggers trying to be subtle, as well as Bob, who couldn’t be even if he tried. “Charity, also running this place and getting married soon. In your big revenge plan, had you thought you might want to be on the guestlist for that, or? No, just going to keep lying about who you were, let a family wedding pass you by, a chance at a big Dingle knees up pissed right up a rope. A chance to get to know us. Your family.”

“And Lisa. Lisa’s why I’m not chucking you out of here right now. Because she wouldn’t want me to – “

“Like to see you try.”

“And because you’re not worth it. I’m not going to chuck you out, in fact, Bob,” Aaron slapped a few pound on the bar. “Let me get his, yeah.”

Aaron looked Nate square in the eye. “Because I feel sorry for you, that you threw away your shot at being part of a family that looks out for each other. Love eachother with everything they have, though it’s not much. That’s what Dingles do.”

“I thought Dingles did each other?”

Aaron paused, crooked his head to the side. Put back another big swallow of his drink. “Well you’d know more about that than I would mate, you had it away with the mums of both of your brothers.”

Aaron could feel Nate simmering beside him. And he could feel the absence of someone on his other side, putting an advising hand on his shoulder, guiding him away for a private conversation where they’d have just slagged Nate off instead of getting in a fight. But Robert wasn’t here to do that, or even to offer his own barbs and jibes. He was in prison, and Aaron was here, filterless.

Nate squared up to him, and Aaron kept at his beer, bored expression on his face.

“All that stuff you’re talking about. I never had that, and that’s Cain’s fault, yeah?”

“He didn’t know you existed! Cain’s hardly a saint but if we’re going to start slappin’ him with what he’s done _and _what he hasn’t we’re heading for a lock in, don’t you think Bob?” Bob looked flabberghasted, and vaguely terrified to be pulled into the conversation. Aaron swirled the remnants of his glass, allowing himself an empty smile.

“If I believed that, right, and that’s a big _if, _he –“

“Boo hoo hoo,” Aaron said, losing patience. He was doing that a lot lately. “If you want to play _who’s got the worst dad_ go find somebody else, right, I’m sick of always winning.”

Aaron knocked back the last mouthful of his pint, thunking the glass down again in time to catch the end of Bob’s neck-slice gesture and _yikes_-expression to Nate. He dropped himself off his stool carelessly.

“Enjoy,” Aaron pointed at the glass he had spitefully paid for. “Hope it’s not too bitter for you.”


	3. Lydia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia Hart: certified grief counsellor. Aaron Dingle: certified in grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't even re read this, so sorry about any mistakes. i'm too in my feelings for spellcheck apparently

Running in jeans sucked.

But Aaron ran anyway. Away from his mother and the pub full of people who made _no _sense, wishing he could run away from his _life that made no sense_. Before he knew it he was up in the fields around Wishing Well, cold air burning cigarette holes in his lungs and that was an idea, eh? A cigarette would go down smooth right now, no proof on skin for everyone to peck his head about, no lasting pain to bother him in the days to come. Just a subtle way to die. Something to kill without hurting.

“Aaron?” Aaron turned on the spot, his runners pressing a dented circle into the soft, grassy earth. He wondered if there was grass for Robert to see, in a yard or out a window, on the Isle of Wight. Aaron didn’t even know what the Isle of Wight prison looked like, where it was. “Aaron is that you?”

Lydia pottered over from beyond the wall, broaching the distance between them. She was a small presence, with her slight stoop, the way she held her hands in front of her crossed palm over palm like a little bird. It didn’t grate the way he expected – he didn’t think he could take dottiness with any kind of grace right now – if anything he was surprised. He hadn’t realised how close he’d gotten to the cottage, how far he had run before he felt a single step of it. His lungs burned now though. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Lydia said, head leaning further forward than her neck seemed willing to allow, that listening posture she seemed to enter every conversation with. “Oh.”

Aaron looked at her and guessed at what she could see. His face was wet, hands still dirtied with blood.

“What’ve you done to your ‘and?” she asked, finally drawing up close enough to him to have a conversation without shouting. A shame really, he felt just about up to doing some more shouting. Or saying nothing at all. He gave it a whack anyway.

“I beat up the brother of the guy who raped Vic, in the pub. They were on a date, and he was just standing there, like he was meant to be there, like he’s _allowed._” He looked at Lydia, eyes aching in his head, ribs aching under the strain of keeping his heart where it was meant to be, instead of flung across the water to the Isle of Wight. “And I’m not sorry.”

Lydia looked at him for a moment, those wide, speculative eyes taking in the whole picture of him. She glanced at the bloodstains on his knuckles again before returning to his face.

“Well,” she said, “Makes sense to me, alright. Shall we get a brew on?” She nodded her head in the direction of the cottage, and Aaron let the air go out of him, let the earth take the buzzing, electrical, sharp energy he was holding. Lightning sunk into the ground. He nodded.

Lydia took a gentle hold of him by the forearm, her dirty fingernails glancing over his bloody knuckles. She led him back to Wishing Well.

*

The spoon rattled against the edge of the mugs. Aaron sat on the couch, knees hiked up where the dilapidated sofa had sunk under years of supporting Dingle bottoms. Lydia ambled over and set the steaming mugs on the coffee table.

_In the case of a broken heart, apply tea and biscuits._

“No Sam?” Aaron asked, listlessly.

“He’s dealing with chickens. And Mandy’s at – “

“Pub, I know. She was there.”

Lydia nodded. It was…a bit awkward really. And anger was still whipping around inside him like thrashing eels. He bounced his knee, hands steepled under his chin, plucking at his bottom lip with his thumb.

“Judging by – er, well, everything,” Lydia broached, gesturing to encompass all of Aaron, “you’ve got sommat on your mind.”

Aaron snorted. “You could say that.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Lydia asked, patiently, picking up her tea and blowing on it. “These ears aren’t just for picking up telly signals y’know.” She smiled.

_Weirdo_, Aaron thought. Then guilty added, _but kind._

“Mum already had words,” he said, looking between his feet. He explained, in short, manageable sentences, about Robert cutting visitation. “She’s already told me to move on.”

Lydia said nothing, and the sound of silence had Aaron looking up. Lydia’s brow was furrowed and her lips were pursed, like the two halves of her face were so confused that had to meet in the middle and discuss.

“Right,” she said. “Well, far be it for me to stick my neb in where it in’t needed, but that’s – “ she shook her head, visibly restraining herself. “There’s not a limit on listening ears, Aaron. You can talk to me.” She leaned in meaningfully. “I _am _a certified grief counsellor.”

Aaron recoiled. “Robert’s not dead.”

“No, but, grief in’t just about death, is it? It’s _loss._” Lydia flared her eyes, leaning into the word. “And even though it’s not permanent, you’ve lost your Robert. You two were planning a family, you had a home and a life together. I know I never got know your Robert too well, I got the impression he thought I was a bit of a wally,” Lydia shrugged across any possible objections. “He may have been right,” she conceded cheerfully. “You’re upset. I’d be more’n worried if you weren’t! And…I don’t want to step on any toes here, but it’s too soon for you to move on.”

Aaron felt a hot flush of new tears bloom in his eyes. He pressed his lips tight together, couldn’t speak, but nodded at Lydia, _yeah?_

“’Course it is, love.” Lydia reached out, slowly, as though she was giving Aaron time to pull away. He let her do it. She laid a cool palm over his stinging knuckles. “You love him. And wally as I am, and as little as I knew him, if one thing was clear about your Robert it was that he’d move heaven for ya if you asked. Loved the absolute bones of ya. And I know this visitation decision he’s made – it hurts ya. He’s hurt ya with this, and I don’t read minds – well, not across water, there’s connection issues or sommat with that, I. Nevermind. What I’m sayin’ is – “ Lydia squeezed his hand, the two rings on his finger clinking together. “You’re allowed to feel hurt. Sad. Angry,” Lydia made a growly face like Aaron didn’t know what _angry _was, but he kept listening anyway. “Betrayed even. But they’re feelings, and some’ll pass when you’re ready. But the love’ll stay. And that’s not something you ever,_ ever _have to let go.”

Aaron swallowed. His shoulders started to shake. He buried his head in his hands, felt the bands of the promise they made to eachother press into his cheek.

Lydia rubbed soothing circles into his back.

His tea went cold.


	4. Charity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Aaron knocked on the door of Debbie’s house, and waited.
> 
> The door opened a crack and Charity’s eye shone through the space just long enough for Aaron to see it blow wide and angry, the door closing fast. He shoved his boot in. He was doing that a lot lately."
> 
> Post kidnap-ep. Aaron apologises. Things are said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm just gonna be here writing multiple break downs for Aaron until ED feeds me

Aaron knocked on the door of Debbie’s house, and waited.

The door opened a crack and Charity’s eye shone through the space just long enough for Aaron to see it blow wide and angry, the door closing fast. He shoved his boot in. He was doing that a lot lately.

“Charity – “

“Bog off, Aaron! I’ve seen about enough of your mug for 2019, never mind tonight.”

“Charity please, just two minutes?”

“Why should I?” she demanded, still squashing his foot in the door.

“Because we’re family?” She scoffed. “Because I owe you an apology – more than. An apology.”

The pressure of the door let up slightly and he heard her groan on the other side of the door.

“Two minutes,” she said, yanking the door back. Aaron squinted against the outpouring of light, night having fallen since Charity left the Mill with Moses. “Where’s the other half of your double act?” she asked as Aaron trudged in, shutting the door behind him. He shook his head.

“S’just me.”

“Nice,” she said, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

“Cain doesn’t know I’m here, I’m not speakin’ for him. He can do that himself if he wants.” Aaron looked around the living room. “Where’s Moses?”

“Upstairs, though I think you lost the right to ask that when you got him kidnapped, don’t you?”

“I didn’t – I didn’t mean – “

“What Aaron, you didn’t _mean _to get my child wrapped up in your poxy little car scheme? Or your own sister, in fact. They got close enough, I’m surprised they didn’t just bundle her in the car n’all,” she waved her arm emphatically, voice travelling up the scale and down again. Charity’s version of ballbusting was music no one ever wanted to hear.

“Course not, Charity! Look I – “ Aaron took a quick, stabbing inhale, felt his nostrils flare on the breath out. Charity was infuriating at times, but to put it mildly, she’d had a headwreck of a day. He was in the wrong, he knew he was. “I just wanted to say. I’m sorry.”

Charity stared, those wide eyes still smudged with mascara from her tearful fretting.

“That’s it, is it?” she said, voice pitched low, quiet. “That’s your big apology?”

“I could say it till I’m blue in the face, but it’ll change nowt that happened. I’m sorry about Moses, and I’m sorry how much it scared you – “

“Scared me?” Charity closed a bit of the distance between them, only for Aaron to back up a few steps. He’d seen his own mother when she was feeling protective, and Charity was, well. A fucking headcase, at the best of times. These weren’t the best of times. “My son was nearly a late bonfire night showpiece all because you wanted to go out reliving your misspent youth with the biggest misspent youth going!”

Charity narrowed her eyes, spoke dangerously soft. Aaron regretted coming, he should have waited a few days, let everything scab up a bit first. But he was never good at letting a wound heal.

“Did it work Aaron?” she jutted out her lip, “Are you less sad now?”

Aaron looked down at his feet, literally bit his tongue.

“Was Chas right? Are you a bit _down_? A bit _down in the dumps,_” Charity made jazz hands, waved them slowly from side to side. “Is poor little Aaron chucking his toys out the pram again – “

“Don’t,” Aaron said, wiping a hand down his mouth and chin, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Don’t what?” she said, dropping the baby voice. “Don’t treat you like an adult? I’m not your mummy Aaron, I’m not going to just let you act like big bad Cain did all the dirty work. I’ve seen your hands, kid, and they ain’t clean.” Charity got closer again, and this time Aaron didn’t step back, stood rooted to the floor, because the only kind of moving he thought he could do right now would be to fall over, fall down.

“So why’d you do it, eh?” she goaded. He shrugged, crinkling his big puffer coat, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Not good enough, look at me!” She grabbed his chin and forced him to look her way. Charity Dingle, hard as nails and something wounded, deep behind the eyes, always. “Why’d you do it, Aaron? What was so important about nickin’ a few motors that you put my boy – my boy! – in the firing line, eh? Why’d you do it?”

Aaron shook her hand away, strode across the living room to get away from her, his eyes skimming all the photos on the walls of Debbie’s house. All the memories. Some that had nothing to with him, but even seeing family pictures was – he turned around.

“Why, Aaron?”

“To feel something!” he shouted. Charity froze, but he wasn’t done, couldn’t be done now that he’d gone and opened the big gob he’d been so careful to keep closed around Liv, around his mum. It was all too ugly in there for them to have to hear it, to understand it. But if anyone understood what the ugly inside felt like, how it breathed, it was Charity. “I did it to feel something, to hurt someone! I wanted to take someone for all they had, yeah, get a thrill while I was at it. I wanted to risk – I wanted to throw away – _everything_. I wanted to make some cash or get sent down, either way I wanted to ruin something, yeah, drive fast – maybe crash, who cares?” He shrugged, big and exaggerated, spit flying as he yelled. God it felt good.

“I did it, Charity, because there’s just – nothing.” He laughed, bitter and with a smile like a knife’s edge. “There’s nothing. Just emptiness. In the Mill, in my bed, in – “ Aaron clapped a hand to his chest, rubbed at his sternum, choked on it. He pushed it out on a wave of sound, “There’s nothing! Do you get it? NOTHING. So what’s the point, eh? Go to work, move some scrap around, eat because I’m meant to, smile because I’m supposed to. Nothing. It’s all nothing without him and – “

He heaved. It half buckled him over. Charity watched him, an indecipherable look on her face, and he got it. Him being a basket case didn’t mean she needed to forgive him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “About Moses. Because he’s not nothing, he’s your something. He was never meant to be – I’m just sorry.” Aaron steadied himself. Made for the back door without turning around. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again.

He let himself out.


	5. Marlon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marlon helps Aaron remember the good things about Robert.  
\--  
Another day, another self indulgent wished-for conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't sleep, wrote fic. blame insomnia for any errors pls

Shouldering in through the kitchen door, the first thing Aaron saw was the back of Paddy’s head. The second thing he saw was Marlon’s wide _shut your gob _eyes, which, judging by the heedlessness Paddy continued on with, he missed.

“I mean really – “ Paddy blustered, unaware of Aaron behind him. He counted off on his fingers, Marlon’s eyes flickering between Paddy and Aaron all the while, with rising panic. “First the affair. That whole – wh-whole _mess_. Then he winds Aaron up so much that he gets put inside for shooting him when he didn’t even do it. Then wriggling his way back in when Aaron was vulnerable…what, what are you…” Paddy faltered to a quiet stop, and Aaron watched his shoulders grow tense. His voice was barely there when he asked, “Aaron’s right behind me. Isn’t he.”

Marlon nodded slowly, and Paddy turned around to face Aaron, frozen in the doorway.

“Aaron I was j – “

“Slagging off Robert,” Aaron said, blank faced. “Again.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to leave. Paddy reached out to grab his shoulder and Aaron threw him off. “Don’t. I just came to see if you wanted a pint. Take a break from all the baby stuff for an hour, but maybe you shouldn’t.” Paddy blinked, and Aaron couldn’t help but stick the knife in, “Looks like you could still use all the dad-practice you can get.”

Aaron heard Paddy calling as he pushed his way out of the kitchen. Just one hour. That was all he wanted, and figured Paddy might need it by now. Aaron knew what it was like, having a baby in the house. Several times over, actually. There was Seb, or times when he and Robert watched Isaac. Or when Leo was still small, how Aaron holding him made him stop crying. Aaron was good with babies, just like he was good with animals. It was easy to get on with things that wouldn’t say evil shit when they thought you were out of the room.

Aaron’s skull was like a beehive as he left the Woolpack, half wondering if he could just _walk _to the Isle of Wight, over land and sea. He got as far as the bridge, before something broke through.

“Aaron!” he heard behind him. He kept walking. “Aaron, wait!”

That wasn’t Paddy’s voice. Aaron looked over his shoulder, saw Marlon gambolling up towards him, gangly as a lamb. He stopped.

Marlon caught up to him eventually, leaning hands on his knees and looking up at him as Aaron waited impatiently. Marlon panted.

“Y’know,” he started, pushing himself back up to full standing, “I always thought that swagger walk thing you do was just part of the hard man image, but it doesn’t half get you around fast.”

“What do you want, Marlon?” Marlon’s jokey smile dropped, concern filtering in in its place.

“Just wanted to see you’re alright.”

“Well I’m not. There. Now do one.” Aaron walked across the bridge, making it halfway across before Marlon was at his side again.

“Aaron, please.”

“What? Please what, Marlon?” Aaron stopped, glared at him. “Am I meant to go say sorry now or sommat?”

“No, of course not,” Marlon said, plaintively. “Paddy was – he was just – “

“Just? Just what?”

“Being a pillock,” Marlon said, “As usual. You know how he is.”

“So that makes it alright, does it? It’s just Paddy being Paddy and I should just keep on skippin’ should I?”

“Look – I can’t say me and Robert were friends – “

“You’d be amazed,” Aaron laughed, eyes raised to the treetops, seeking out sky. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed where it wasn’t bitter, or false. “You’d be amazed how many times I’ve heard that from people in this family since he got sent down. And that’s just the thing, isn’t it. The man I chose – twice – to spend my life with, and not one of you was arsed trying to get to know him. You all thought you knew him already, had him all figured out. Paddy and Mum especially, but none of the rest of you were any better when it counted were you? And now every time I turn around, there’s someone else saying sommat bad about him.”

“So tell me the good things!” Marlon said. “Tell me about him, eh? About _your _Robert.” Anyone else and maybe Aaron would have told him to do one again, or something even more colourful. But Marlon’s face was earnest, mouth still pinched with concern that didn’t feel condescending the way it did from some of the others. Like they thought he was going off the deep end for no reason at all.

“Why should I? Why would you care?”

“Because,” Marlon said, voice evening out, his stooping shoulders making it feel even more private, alone as they were on the bridge. “When my marriage fell apart, it wasn’t just you who helped me.” Aaron remembered. The thrill of him and Robert doing something illicit together, knowing that as much as they were mostly legit in aid of an easier path to surrogacy, there was nothing that got Robert’s blood up like Aaron showing a little criminal competency. He remembered Robert kissing him, pushed up against the windows of that car, sliding along until they were bowed over the hood. And the rest.

Aaron nodded, leaning up against the wood of the bridge barrier. He watched the running water.

“The things Paddy said,” he broached. “He’s wrong about them. About him.”

Marlon sidled up, leaned his elbows on the barrier just like Aaron was doing. Listened.

“The affair…it wasn’t ideal. I know it wasn’t. But it wasn’t something Robert did _to _me, I’m able to make my own bad decisions.”

“I’d noticed,” Marlon elbowed him. Aaron huffed. He watched the water move between rocks, tried to let the sound relax him. Sometimes when they had trouble getting Seb down, Robert would look up soothing soundtracks on his phone. They found that rain and water sounds often did the job, even when Seb seemed sleepily determined to keep his little eyes open. “And blaming Robert for getting shot seemed a bit…excessive.”

Aaron nodded, glanced at his hands.

“Robert didn’t _wriggle in_ when I was vulnerable. He…everyone says he’s so selfish, and you know what, he is. I’m not daft, I know who he is. But he wasn’t selfish with me. Not then.” Aaron peered over at Marlon and found him watching Aaron’s face carefully. His own expression was open, his hair free where he had his chef’s hat clasped in his spindly fingered hands. He nodded, wordlessly prompting Aaron to go on. “When we went to see Sandra that first time, when Robert found her and Liv for me – I nearly bottled it. I didn’t…I didn’t think I could handle it, speaking to her. What if she didn’t believe me, what if she _did _I just. I was a mess. And he just…waited me out. He listened to me, made sure I didn’t leave with regrets and – “

Aaron swallowed, focused on the water. The water.

“I came onto him that day,” Aaron squinted, uncomfortable talking about it with Marlon of all people, who to him, was about as sexless as a green bean. “I tried to kiss him, and he said no.” Aaron looked at Marlon again, kept waiting for him to interrupt, tell him that Robert must have had some secret agenda, some other reason for kindness than the fact that he loved Aaron with that steady, scary devotion. Marlon’s eyebrows were raised, but he said nothing. “He said he’d wait until I was ready, until I wasn’t in such a bad place. And you saw what I was like during the investigation, the trial, I was…I put him through it. Up, down, whatever and he just – “

“Waited,” Marlon said.

Aaron wiped a hand down his face, came away wet. _Tapped, and a tap, _he scoffed at himself. The trees moved overhead, dropping a few shakily held-on leaves. It was the time of year where night rolled in at 3.30 whether you were ready or not, dragging the cold with it like a tagalong guest.

“It was here as well,” Aaron said gesturing the length of the bridge, “during the trial. One of those first days when I was ready to back out all over again, he told me I was stronger than him – than Gordon, I mean.” Aaron clenched his hands on the bridge barrier, remembered that night so clearly. His voice cracked but he didn’t want to stop, stop speaking, stop remembering. He wanted Robert back, here, so badly. But remembering was as close as he’d get now. “He said he believed in me, made it so I felt safe. Even just for a minute, _he_ gave me that. When I hadn’t felt that way since the first time Gordon showed back up like he’d done nowt wrong, Robert gave me that, yeah? No one else could do that, and let’s be honest, Paddy was too busy having his midlife crisis to even try.”

“I was safe with Robert.” Aaron dropped his head, shoulders hunched up, and pulled in a deep breath. The air was cold and whipped fresh by the river, the water inky black below. He felt a hand on his shoulderblade, and when he didn’t shrug the touch away, Marlon slid it up further, squeezing. Grounding.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Marlon said, his voice tight like he was upset. Aaron looked up and found it confirmed in his face, drawn and harrowed with sadness. Sadness for Aaron, and Aaron thought, maybe sadness for Robert too.

“I just wish they’d stop saying all this shit about him,” Aaron said, letting Marlon’s hand stay where it was, the first comforting touch in too long that Aaron wasn’t instantly repulsed by in its wrongness. “Why did Robert only ever get to be known for his mistakes, eh? Like everyone else in this fucking village is a saint. Everyone else gets to move on, why didn’t he?”

“I can’t answer that,” Marlon said, regretfully. He dropped his hand from Aaron’s shoulder. “But, how about next time you were thinking about getting a pint, or just wanted a chat, you come find me, eh? Paddy and your mum they – “

“Hate him.”

“I was going to say _have a lot on their plate, _actually,” Marlon said, diplomatically. He shifted his weight in that quick, fretting way he often did, making the bridge boards creak. “But I promise ya, Aaron. My kitchen’ll be a slagging-free zone from now on. You can come talk – or not. Worst that’ll happen is I’ll feed you.”

“That could be pretty bad, I still remember that time you tested Fish Surprise on me.”

“Fish Surprise was art unappreciated in its time, and I’ll not hear a word against it.” Marlon elbowed him again, and Aaron faked out that he would elbow him back. Marlon jumped a half foot away, then puffed a nervous laugh out. Aaron shook his head, amused in spite of himself.

Marlon was alright, as family went. And setting the record straight about Robert to even one Dingle sounded…healing, potentially. Helpful, when his own memories clouded over with everything that happened after, everything that was happening now. It might be just what he needed. A good way to remember. A way to remember the good.

He’d need to hold onto the memories, tight. Robert wasn’t the only one who could wait.

Aaron would.

It was his turn anyway.


	6. Liv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron tries to make Liv understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just been mulling over Liv and Aaron's conversation from Friday, and i really, really feel for her. i wish they'd expand on her own reactions to losing Robert and stop making her aaron's "be good" mascot when they've already got chaddy firmly in that role. i'm not sure if i'm entirely happy with where i landed w this one tbh, but i'll whack it up anyway

Liv was curled up on the couch when Aaron came in the door, still in the same outfit as before – that sunny yellow jumper under her raincloud face. Her shoes were swapped for slipper socks, thick and fluffy and tucked up under her. She was tapping away at her phone, and barely flicked her eyes his way as he shut the door behind him, kicking off his own shoes.

“Right,” he said, as non-confrontationally as he could manage. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch, making sure to leave her space. Neither of them liked to be crowded for a hard conversation. “You’ve said your piece yeah? Can I say mine?”

“What is there to say,” Liv mumbled out. “You’ve made it pretty clear you don’t care what I think about it.”

“I always care what you think,” Aaron said. He interlaced his fingers, tugging at his knuckles on one hand and then the other, one very apparent thing missing. He’d grown so reliant on fiddling with his ring to release tension, now he’d taken it off the skin of his hands was chafed and rubbed red. Easily masked at this time of year though, everyone’s hands would be a shambles as the December cold started to settle into the bones. “But there’s stuff that I never. I never wanted to say to you, because at the time it was all too much yeah? For me _and_ for you. You were just a kid, and you were dealing with a lot then, and honestly, there are just things I never wanted you to hear.”

“What, like you beating up Paddy?”

Aaron closed his eyes.

“Yeah. Things like that, from a lifetime ago. Before I knew you.” Aaron leaned forward on his elbows, resting them on his knees and looking between them. “Before I knew myself.”

Liv was still staring at her screen like she wasn’t listening, but he could tell she was. Her thumb hadn’t moved in a bit, for a start.

“But I meant…during the trial. All of that stuff with Gordon. There were things I could never have said to you, while it was so raw, and you were way too young to hear it. But I reckon – “ Aaron swallowed. “I reckon if you’re old enough to tell me how to handle this now, you’re old enough to hear some of it. Might help even. Help you understand.”

He glanced Liv’s way at the click sound of her phone being locked. She let it fall to her lap. Nodded.

“Do you remember when you scratched _liar _into my car?” Liv froze. He could feel it across the cushions, the tension pulling her body taut enough to send a tremor through the fabric. “Hey – I’m not bringing it up to hurt you, right, I’m going somewhere with it. At the time…I thought he did it. Broken bail and come into my home, got that close to me, even with everyone looking out for me. I thought he was untouchable – he came to prove it more than once. Showed up at work, in the pub n’all. Seeing it I – I thought I’d never be safe from him. Didn’t matter where he was, where I was, he’d always be able to get at me.”

Aaron looked across the room, forcing his eyes to stay focused, to stay present with an unpleasant and uncomfortable moment. He fixed his gaze on the mantlepiece. The photos.

“I nearly chucked it in because of it. The trial, all of it.” Aaron looked at Liv. Her eyes were filling fast, but it needed saying. “I couldn’t face it, feeling that powerless. Not again. Robert helped. Brought me back from it, you know how he is, talk you into anything.”

Liv sniffed again, a tiny laugh.

“But that feeling Liv, it never leaves you. Even when he died, it was still with me. But then, finding out it was you that did it to the car, I mean, I was mad, I know that I scared you – “

“I’m so sorry, Aaron, I – “

He reached across the cushions and cuffed her knee. “That’s what I’m saying yeah, finding out it was you. I could forgive _you. _You were a kid, you were hurting. You’re my sister, yeah? You could push me off the roof and I’d still make sure you had a good alibi.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Liv wiped her cheeks with her sleeve, meeting his eyes. Blue for blue. Hollow laugh for laugh.

“I could forgive you not believing me, and for hurting me like that, because I love you. But Wendy – you were in denial because you needed to believe the dad you had always wanted wasn’t what he was. She’s an adult, just like Lee was. If she’s in denial it’s because that’s where she wants to be, and that shouldn’t be Vic’s problem. I need you to get that Wendy moving into this village, for Vic…that’s going to be trying to live her life with someone scratching _liar _into her car every single day. Making her that powerless again, and again. The only difference is that Vic doesn’t love Wendy, there’s no getting past it the way you and I did, especially not when Wendy is _still _calling Vic a liar.”

“The moment I was sure that you had never felt that way, that he never – “ Aaron pushed his palms into his eyes. Took a breath, long and audible. When he lowered them, Liv was in pieces. Face blotchy, she was still too young to hear this, she’d be too young to hear this at fifty, at a hundred. Little sister’s curse, he supposed. “Do you know how happy it makes me, knowing that you can’t understand how this feels?”

Liv shuffled closer, leaned her head on his shoulder. He raised a hand to stroke down the back of her head, along her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice tight with crying. Aaron didn’t think either of them especially knew what she was sorry for. Sorry for this situation. Sorry for the ghost of the past or its resurrection in the now. Sorry for not understanding and sorry for being glad of it. “I’m just scared of losing you.”

“I know.”

Aaron stroked her hair a few more times, feeling that sensation, from the top to the bottom of his ribcage, where it felt like a new black hole was forming. A cosmic tear, a chasm.

A long way to fall.


End file.
